i will write a million more

i am my own terraformed artifact.
a series of ones and zeros i unfold into a sorrow beyond imagining
i robot. i life-form complex and plastic.
i am a carbon (based) copy of true. if true is.
rubber i fold, furrowing knots of self
with a balloon animal taste for twisted love and flesh
(years ago the plastic plant in Dr. Harvey's office
began to extract the home from my questionable limbs)
i cannot bear the plastic of my hands!
i cannot bear the way they reach for each other with no porous aptitude
the way they hold the question of life in suspended solitude

with one eye turning a swift dark corner i see my deepest fear
i see hollow synthetics. habitual maudlin recordings
mistaken for life. i see chaos wink out
i see the seething matrix hollow her mind
and become an endless march of ones and zeros
111000100100110101010000101011bird01000
101101bird100101010000011010011000bird01
bird appears to staunch my quickly bleeding peace
to soft round breast my gently ticking horror
i have written a million poems about birds
i will write a million more

2:11 PM - 16 Comments - 30 Kudos - Add Comment

peel your red pleathered thigh

welcome to my mysterious breakfast nook
fake birds in further, smaller nooks watch with real eyes
LET's SEE YOU WRANGLE THAT CUTLERY!!
thank you (now i'm very quiet)
so many eyes will watch your proceedings
it makes for stiff conversation and stiffer hair
(my hair leapt into a wave and stayed there
frozen dolphins long for bacon below)
this scrambled tableau is yellow runny centered
THE SUN EXPLODED! or just my face (yes, i'm quiet again)
exploding laughter politely flattens into continuous doilies
knick-knack lay flat give your joy a bone
we cannot knit these snowflake lips!
shut for long this joyful noise!
finds crockery to round about in
oh the curvature of its lounge...
be a dear, peel your red pleathered thigh
from the banquette and pass me your face 

1:00 PM - 18 Comments - 36 Kudos - Add Comment

this guy’s story (a poem & pic from the left hand)

i have hunkered down into a tri-tip roast
i have hunkered deep into a meat shyness called progress
i have wrinkled furthermore and sideways out of far too many genitalia conferences
i have a goal that looks like a period.
i will succinctly end your soft internal meandering.
i have thrust my ending everywhere
the world needs a good dot fucker
i have a god that looks like a shoe
takes me to work and beats 'round your bush with a stick
Flee Slither Tarts!
Enough.
i am not about expletives. i am about a pointed head
mine is pointus oblongata due to weighty matters and drill bits.
joy is a comma in someone else's sky
i moon watch her out my morbid eye slit
envy arcs 'round me in rivers
goddam that Tesla
goddam that moon
but that is neither here nor there
these matters aren't weighty enough for my concern
these matters lay limp in your fallen parentheses
your fallen parentheses cup the fractured moon
gently rock her slivered light

12:59 PM - 12 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

Every angel is terrifying (a part of poem I love by someone else)

Every angel is terrifying.
And so I hold myself back and swallow the call-note of my dark sobbing.
Ah, whom can we ever turn to in our need?
Not angels, not humans, and already the knowing animals are aware
that we are not really at home in our interpreted world.
Perhaps there remains for us some tree on a hillside, which every day we can take into our vision;
there remains for us yesterday's street and the loyalty of a habit so much at ease
when it stayed with us that it moved in and never left.
Oh and night: there is night, when a wind full of infinite space gnaws at our faces.
Whom would it not remain for--that longed-after, mildly disillusioning presence, which the solitary heart so painfully meets.
Is it any less difficult for lovers?
But they keep on using each other to hide their own fate.
Don't you know yet?
Fling the emptiness out of your arms into the spaces we breathe;
perhaps the birds will feel the expanded air with more passionate flying.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

3:33 PM - 18 Comments - 28 Kudos - Add Comment

so much for monk

i dreamt you breathed in my ear like the Hindenburg
(so much for monk)
i dreamt purity herself sat beside us
(soft brown hair, )
i dreamt you told me the meaning of "moet:"
(a tourniquet for the ego)
i dreamt your mouth insisted on mine and you log-rolled
(me over these lounging bodies)
i dreamt you laughed down my throat
(pushed your joy into sternum)
I have no mouthpiece
(I have an old love with old bright eyes)
I. have. no. mouthpiece. only mouth

3:33 PM - 20 Comments - 40 Kudos - Add Comment

this morning i got it all wrong

do you remember how you could put
mr. potato head's nose in his eye
or make a mouth brow eye lip?
bobby used to put the tiny glasses on
his nose and lip crimp the tiny pipe.
this was a small world on a big face.
this was a small face in a big house.
this was a small house in a big world.
this was a small world drowning in  infinite folds of space. 
this morning i got it all wrong.
put my nose on a house.
put my mouth on the moon.
put my ear in this text box.
rolled my eyes into a long black sky.

12:58 PM - 22 Comments - 42 Kudos - Add Comment

god bless my counterclockwise ponies.

(this is for the kids i teach in the summer. note - i teach creative movement and INEVITABLY at some point during every class i've ever taught the kids start spontaneously dancing/trotting in counterclockwise circles, never clockwise)

god bless people into pencils into fission into guttural totem-pole
the wittershins the wittershins, my counterclockwise ponies

god bless violet and her magical mood bag
her zig zag systematic derangement of reason
the ritualistic running of a three pointed star
the chant the chant: cheesy,cowy, we no existy
cheesy, cowy, we no existy
cheesy, cowy, we no existy
cheesy, cowy, we no existy

asperger sam and his after lunch circles
arms flung every true north with no apologies
"right here!" and then the orbit
"right here!" and then the orbit
"right here!" and then the orbit

god bless sam and his downward couching face
no checkers no chess
no connect four. just his
nuclear mind boring into china
"don't interrupt this story in my head!"

the universe is shattered into whole blue orbs
right here
sam's eyes
sam's eyes
sam's eyes

6:39 PM - 21 Comments - 42 Kudos - Add Comment

beware my plastic captain

we are in a fight
we have condensed our hurt into
recto-linear lego fortress beware
my plastic captain!
beware my itty bitty titty sword bite!
don't laugh i am causing you
pain now, PAIN, pain not tickle.
beware my lego jet ski, my lunar
landing module no bigger than your head
i am searching for friendly planets
or planetoids. you are a 'toid
my module clicks into sneer
my pieces are snapped into escape
mode, modules and modest hate.
shy bits of hate to build a tiny hate-hut
I live in this small anger but
only 'til they serve me cheese
then i will forget our red, white, black & blue
war (don't forget the clear rare greens and yellows)
my anger pulls apart in the blink
of a snack plate. i love you
let's play connect four

2:00 PM - 25 Comments - 34 Kudos - Add Comment

molting eggling

in perfect accordance with your shy yawning feathers
the tip of my tongue will just dip
into the space of ooglamatic folds of forgotten
(you have gone and forgotten yourself
my molting eggling, haven't you)

here is a place of pure space where nothing ever was
and it's yours or maybe mine in its plump virgin parameters
nothing has touched this egglateral empty

eleven feathers have known its pudding skin convex-tion
but never the blind middle, never the feathered eye
no, this is yours to map or fold or spyglass down in bold concentric rings
or to tongue by tip the tiny cupped and nesting dolls

eleven bells rang empty into cornered eyes of gloom
(and yes, i would like to unfold your origami gloam box)
but the 12th rang forgotten and this is where my tongue comes in
nudging a wet reminder into the fallow of where
we forget we forget we forget ourselves

8:02 AM - 23 Comments - 44 Kudos - Add Comment

chutes and ladders

legal and letter size tragedies
folded up tight and chicklet white,
shoved, of course,
beneath the game shelf.

here is sophie's sliding back 
eight years old and duck-slick grey

her inability to befriend 
is making her face into food
for all these hungry books.

11:36 PM - 15 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment